Sour Apples Page 3

  As the music swelled again, Meg turned back to watch the room. As she scanned the gym, she noticed a man and woman walk in. Both looked out of place: the man was fortyish and wore a respectable suit; his only concession to the casual event was a loosening of his red tie. His companion was about the same age and wore a simple black dress that Meg read quickly as expensive, accompanied by black pumps with three-inch heels. And yet they seemed to know people in the room—a lot of people. As Meg watched, the couple began to work the room, or at least she would define it that way, and she had seen plenty of it in her earlier banking days. The two looked perfectly at ease, yet purposeful, as they walked from table to table. At each, the man would stop and greet people by name, shaking hands, his smile fixed in place; about half the time the woman would smile and add a comment, her hand on his arm. They’d traveled about a quarter of the way around the perimeter when a new song started up, one they both recognized. The two exchanged a look, then moved out onto the dance floor and joined the throng, somehow managing to maintain their dignified manner while dancing with some enthusiasm. Meg couldn’t help wondering who they were and what they were doing here.

  Seth returned with the drinks and fell back into his chair. Meg nudged him. “Who are those two?” She nodded toward the couple. “They just came in.”

  Seth followed her gaze, and his expression became wary. “That’s Rick Sainsbury. We went to high school together. Haven’t seen him around here for years. That must be his wife—I haven’t met her. They don’t live in Granford.” He didn’t elaborate.

  Meg was surprised by Seth’s curt response about the newcomers. He was usually so genial. She watched with mild curiosity as the pair went back to making their way around the room, gradually approaching their table. She could sense Seth’s tension as the Sainsburys neared, although he made no move to leave.

  When Rick approached, he stopped and cocked his head at Seth. “Seth Chapin. How long has it been?” He held out his hand, which Seth shook politely.

  “Going on twenty years, I’d guess. High school.”

  “Good times. May I introduce my wife? This is Miranda—I’m showing her my old stomping grounds.”

  “Miranda,” Seth shook again.

  Miranda gave him a somewhat plastic smile. “Seth, it’s nice to meet you. Rick has mentioned you. And this is?” She turned to Meg, who was suddenly conscious of her rather downscale clothes. Up close, Miranda’s dress looked even more expensive.

  “I’m Meg Corey. I own an orchard that abuts Seth’s land.”

  “You run it yourself?” Miranda said.

  “Along with a few other people. I used to work in banking in Boston, but you know how that market is these days.”

  “Only too well. It’s nice that you had something to fall back on.”

  “Rick Sainsbury, Meg.” Her husband thrust out a hand and shook with a carefully calculated grip—not too strong, not too limp. “Good to meet you. Nice to see some new blood in this old town. Seth, what’re you up to these days?”

  “Building renovation,” he said tersely. Again Meg wondered why Seth wasn’t his usual friendly self.

  “Not your dad’s business?” Sainsbury asked.

  “He’s gone now, and I’ve taken it in a different direction.”

  Sainsbury seemed to gather himself together. “I’d love to talk more with you about it. We’ll be in the area for a few days at least. Maybe we can get together sometime.”

  “Sure,” Seth said in a flat tone.

  “Great!” Sainsbury shook his hand yet again, while Miranda waggled her fingers at them, and the glossy power couple moved on to the next table.

  When they were out of earshot, Meg said, “You don’t like him.”

  Seth turned to her. “Was it that obvious?”

  “Not to him apparently. But to anyone who knows you, yes. What’s up?”

  “Now’s not the time or place. Why don’t we just enjoy the evening?”

  Fair enough. Meg wasn’t going to press. She scanned the crowd again, thinning now as the clock approached ten. There seemed to be some sort of disagreement going on at the door: a couple of men were arguing with the ticket taker. It was like watching television with the sound turned off. Meg could fill in the dialogue: the guys wanted in, without tickets; the ticket taker, a shorter and older man, was holding his ground and wouldn’t let them pass. Well, Meg thought, this was a fund-raiser for the town, and the tickets didn’t cost much—why wouldn’t they just pay? But the duo seemed to feel they were entitled to special consideration. Meg almost turned to Seth to ask if he should step in, but then she stopped herself; he was already in an odd mood, and it really wasn’t his problem anyway.

  Then another woman came in the door and stepped in front of the two. They backed off reluctantly, then turned and left. The woman looked to be apologizing to the ticket taker, then she stepped further into the main room, looking around at the crowd. At first Meg didn’t pay much attention to her, but then suddenly she focused. Was that…? Could it be…? Lauren Converse? But her friend Lauren was in Boston, wasn’t she? She hadn’t said anything about visiting, and Meg hadn’t heard from her since Lauren’s tentative relationship with a Northampton detective had fizzled out. Still, if it wasn’t Lauren it had to be her twin. Meg watched closely as the maybe-Lauren crossed the room and laid a hand on Rick Sainsbury’s arm and leaned closer to whisper something in his ear. He nodded, then spoke quietly to Miranda, and they picked up the pace, although without leaving immediately. Maybe-Lauren watched them for a moment and then turned around—and saw Meg.

  “Meg! I hoped you’d be here!” Definitely-Lauren came over and pulled Meg out of her chair for a hug. “It’s so good to see you! And I’ve got so much to tell you!”

  “Starting with what the heck you’re doing here and why you didn’t tell me you were coming,” Meg said drily as she extricated herself from the hug.

  “I’m so sorry—I kept meaning to call, but things have been so crazy. Hi, Seth, how are you?” Lauren didn’t wait for an answer. “Listen, how about I stop by tomorrow morning? Can’t talk now—see you tomorrow!” And she turned and hurried after Rick and Miranda, leaving Meg staring, speechless.

  “What is she doing here? And with the Sainsburys?” Seth asked.

  “I have no idea—I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out. You ready to go?” Seth didn’t look anywhere near as happy as he had earlier in the evening.

  “Yeah. I think I’ve had my fill of dancing for this year.”

  3

  Meg and Seth drove the short distance back to her house in relative silence. When Seth pulled into the driveway, Meg asked, “You coming in?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. “I guess, if you want.”

  “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming. If you’re tired, go on home.” Meg was still puzzled by Seth’s odd reaction to Rick Sainsbury.

  He smiled at her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I would be delighted to see you to your door and to share a nightcap.”

  “That’s better,” Meg said, returning his smile.

  Inside there was no sign of Bree, although Meg had seen Michael’s car parked in back so she assumed they were probably up in her room. Lolly padded silently from somewhere in the house to welcome them. “Hey, cat. No, it’s not food time.” Meg opened the refrigerator and looked vaguely at the contents before asking Seth, “So, wine, beer, coffee?”

  “Coffee sounds good, if it’s no trouble. I doubt it will keep me awake.”

  “I can make coffee in my sleep.” Meg set about putting together coffee and said, without turning back to Seth, “That was fun tonight. Nice crowd, and they looked like they were all having a good time. I can see why you want to have an event like this. Does the town make much money from it?”

  “A little, after we pay for the band and the bartender. Anything that’s left goes to support the recycling program.”

  “Nice idea.” A few moments later, she presented him with a mug of co
ffee and sat down with her own. “So who is this Sainsbury person? He looked like he dropped in from another planet.”

  Seth chuckled in spite of himself. “Good description. He did look kind of, I don’t know, shiny?” He drank some coffee and relaxed into his chair.

  “Did you know him well, at school?” Meg asked.

  “We weren’t in the same grade, but we overlapped on the Granford football team. I haven’t seen him in years—he went off to college, and as far as I knew, he never looked back.”

  “Well, he’s back now,” Meg said slowly. “I don’t know the guy, but watching him tonight, it looked as though he was glad-handing the crowd, like a politician would. I wonder if that has anything to do with what Lauren was doing there, though she’s in finance, not politics. Guess maybe I’ll find out when she comes by tomorrow.”

  “I haven’t heard anything about a run for office, but it’s possible. I’ll admit it’s strange that Sainsbury was here at all, much less making nice with everyone, since he’s had nothing to do with Granford since he left. You saw—he even spoke to me, called me by name, and I wouldn’t have called us anything like friends. Anyway, if he is running for something, it must be at the state level. I’m not plugged in to state politics—the local level is plenty for me.”

  “Remind me again how that works for you?” Meg said.

  “Candidates for the Board of Selectmen run in a local election, not tied to the state or federal dates—and in off-years. Most terms of office are for three years. My term ends next year.”

  “Are you going to run again?”

  He shrugged. “Thing is, not a lot of people are interested in running, especially these days. It’s easy to find candidates when the economy’s good, but when things get tough, the job’s not much fun. You spend most of your time responding to complaints. I keep saying to people, ‘There’s no money to do that,’ but I get the feeling people think I’m lying to them. Or maybe they just distrust all politicians—I don’t know. But the truth is, we’ve already pared the town budget down to the bone. Without new industry or raising taxes, there simply isn’t going to be any more money in the foreseeable future, and at the same time the state keeps raising its mandated expenditures and cutting its support. There’s no way to get ahead of it all.”

  “Sounds grim. Why do you do it?”

  “Somebody has to. Besides, Granford’s always been good to me, and I figure I owe the town something in return.” He stood up. “I should be heading home.”

  “Do you have to? After all, aren’t there other rites of spring to be observed?”

  Seth cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is that an invitation?”

  “If you want it to be,” Meg said.

  “Well, all right then, come on.” He held out a hand, and Meg took it.

  The next morning Meg and Seth were enjoying a leisurely Sunday morning cup of coffee at the kitchen table when Meg heard a car pull into the driveway. She felt too lazy to get up and see who it was, and wasn’t surprised to hear a knock at the back door a few minutes later. She turned to see Lauren waggling her fingers through the glass of the door.

  “Oh, shoot—I forgot she was coming by this morning. You must have distracted me.” Meg smiled at Seth as she stood up and headed for the door. “Hi, Lauren.”

  Lauren breezed in. “Hey, Meg. Whoa—hi, Seth.” Then she did a double take, looking between Meg and Seth. “So, you two…?”

  “Yup,” Seth said, unruffled. Meg suppressed a smile.

  “Guess I haven’t talked to you for a while,” Lauren said with a grin, dropping into a chair at the table. “Got any more of that coffee?”

  “Sure.” Meg filled a mug and set it in front of Lauren. “I’d better make some more—the kids aren’t up yet.”

  “Kids?” Lauren’s eyebrows lifted a solid half-inch. “Hey, I haven’t been gone that long!”

  “I meant Bree—you remember her?—and her boyfriend Michael.”

  “Ah,” Lauren replied. “I leave you alone out here for a couple of months and what do I find? Lewd and lascivious behavior around every corner. I am shocked, I tell you—shocked!”

  “Jealous?” Meg said as she quickly prepared another pot of coffee.

  Lauren smiled at her. “Maybe a little. Ever since Bill and I stopped seeing each other, I’ve been a nun.”

  She was interrupted by the clomp of feet coming down the back stairs; tall and gangly Michael did not move silently. Bree brought up the rear. Michael stopped at the foot of the stairs, tongue-tied in the presence of a stranger, but Bree pushed past him. “Hi, Seth. Hey, Lauren, what brings you here? Oh, Michael, this is Meg’s friend Lauren. Lauren, this is Michael Fisher.” Bree eyed the pot of coffee, then opened the refrigerator and started rummaging for something to eat. “You hungry, Michael?” she called over her shoulder.

  “Uh, yeah, sure, I guess.” He drifted around the perimeter of the room but didn’t sit down.

  “So, Lauren, what does bring you here?” Meg asked. “I was surprised to see you at that event last night. I thought I was imagining things. How do you know Rick Sainsbury?”

  Lauren grinned. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “Are you still with the bank?” Meg asked.

  “Nope, I quit. It just wasn’t much fun anymore, after you left. And a lot of other good people also left. And the economy tanked. I handed in my notice at the end of the year.”

  “So now what? Are you going to lay back and consider your options? ‘Get your head together’?” Meg made air quotes.

  “Not exactly.” To Meg’s eye, Lauren looked like the proverbial cat that had swallowed the canary. “I’ve got a new job. For now.” She looked at Meg, challenging her to ask.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the new gig?”

  “Rick Sainsbury is planning to run for Congress from the First District, and I’m his new campaign coordinator!”

  “Wow! I hadn’t heard anything about that.” Meg’s eyes flicked toward Seth; he didn’t look happy. “Of course, I’ve been kind of crazy busy. When did all this happen?”

  “Last month. I knew somebody who knew Rick, and he got us together and something clicked. Rick’s been testing the waters since then—he doesn’t have to file to run until early May—but he’s been getting some very good feedback. He sure fits the profile, right?”

  “You mean, white male, blond wife, local ties, and all that?” Seth spoke for the first time.

  Lauren took a moment to look at Seth critically. “Yes, if you want to see it that way. He’s also smart, a successful businessman, he has deep roots in this area, and he has enough money to kick things off. He wants to give back.”

  “Funny, I don’t recall seeing much of him around here for the last, oh, twenty years.”

  Lauren swiveled in her chair to face Seth squarely. “Seth, do you even know Rick?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Seth replied levelly. “We went to high school together.” He stood up abruptly. “Meg, I’ve got stuff to do. I’ll let you and Lauren catch up. Lauren, good to see you again.” He drained his coffee, leaned over to kiss Meg’s cheek, and headed for the back door, grabbing his coat on the way out.

  Bree stared after him. “What was that all about?”

  “I really don’t know.” Meg was watching Seth’s retreating back as well. “So, Lauren, tell me more. I didn’t know you had any political experience.”

  Lauren turned her focus back to Meg. “I don’t, not specifically, but I’ve got plenty of organizational and financial experience. And from what I’ve seen from the inside of this campaign so far, what’s really needed is energy and commitment and some planning skills, and I’ve got plenty of those.” She made another abrupt turn. “Hey, Michael?”

  Michael looked startled at being included. “Yeah?”

  “What do you do?” Lauren asked.

  “Uh, you mean, like, work? I, um, help out with a group of local activists who are into organic growing processes.”

  Lauren’
s eyes lit up. “Like a lobbying group? Terrific! How’d you like to meet with Rick and see if you can help each other out?”

  Michael cast a stricken look at Bree and mumbled something that could have been interpreted as a “maybe.”

  “Great!” Lauren said and turned back to Meg. “And you must have met plenty of people around here by now, right? Other farmers, vendors, that kind of thing?”

  “Yes,” Meg said cautiously.

  “Rick really wants to see some government support for small farmers and business owners in this part of the state, and not just the big conglomerates. Maybe we can set something up.” She looked at her watch. “Shoot, I’ve got to get over to Holyoke for a meeting. Sorry I don’t have more time, Meg—I really do want to catch up.”

  “Hey, slow down a sec! Are you going to be in the area for a while? Where are you staying?”

  “Some ratty motel near the highway in Holyoke. We’ll be around here for a week or two, depending on what meetings we can set up, because Rick wants to solidify his local contacts, and we’re collecting signatures so he can file to run. Why?”

  “Why don’t you stay here? I’ve got a spare room.”

  “Hey, that’d be great, if you’re sure it’s no trouble? It would save the campaign some money—we haven’t had time to do a lot of fund-raising yet. And I can fill you in on things more fully. Thanks, Meg! So I’ll see you later? I’ll call if I’ll be real late. Gotta run!” And she dashed out the back door, leaving Meg, Bree, and Michael in stunned silence.

  Bree was the first to speak. “And what the heck was that all about?”

  “Hurricane Lauren hit. I guess the last time you saw her, she was kind of down. This is closer to normal Lauren, actually. Looks like she’s got a new project.”

  “And what was up with Seth? He didn’t look very happy to see her.”

  “I think that was directed toward Candidate Rick, not Lauren. I gather he’s not a big fan.” Meg shook her head. “I don’t know the details, but I’m pretty sure Seth and Rick have a history of some kind.”